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but at Trevelyan, who was approaching them. When he was
close enough, she reached out and laid her hand on his arm,
fleetingly, and then withdrew it Mr. Munn noticed how the
sleeve of the too-big, old brown coat came down almost to
the knuckles of her hand.

" Le's git goen," Trevelyan said to her.

Mr. Munn moved down the aisle, and they followed him.
He forced his way through the crowd at the door, and then
went down the corridor and out into the yard. He turned
to them and called, " Well, good-bye."

" Good-bye," Trevelyan replied. The woman said nothing,
staring at him.

He had not taken five steps before he heard the man's
voice calling, "Kin you wait a minute, please?" Trevelyan
approached him slowly, and Mr. Munn, watching that meaty,
impassive face, and the small blue eyes that squinted now a
little against the light, was struck with a sudden irritation at
the man. He did not want to see him again. And he was
tired, for he had had only two hours' sleep.

"Well?" he asked.

Trevelyan looked at him a moment, and then said, "You're
calcerlaten to come out and git my crop." There was no in-
flection of question in the words; they were a statement
rendered impartially, judicially, flatly, almost casually.

Mr. Munn studied his face and the slightly squinting eyes,
but there was nothing there. Then he replied, " No, I wasn't
figuring on taking your crop."

" You sent yore niggers out to cut hit and fire hit. That's
whut my wife said."

"Your wife couldn't do it herself."

" You ain't aimen to take hit."

" No, I'm not going to take it/' Mr. Munn said. " I sent
those niggers out there because I didn't want to see that
tobacco go to waste. I didn't want to get anything out of
this case, or expect to. I took it because I didn't think you
killed Duffy."

"You ain't aimen to take hit."  The expression of Trevel-